


Tread Lightly On My Ground

by viciousmaukery



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Friendship, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, tiny baby spoilers for primrose's chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmaukery/pseuds/viciousmaukery
Summary: Since meeting Primrose only a few short weeks ago, Cyrus had not seen her dance until today, on the stage of Stillsnow Tavern. He knew she was a dancer, of course, and he had to admit he was curious to see if her skill lived up to her reputation. As he watched her, he realised she surpassed it. The way she moved her body effortlessly in time with the sultry music was hypnotising. It was as if she was one with the very air around her. And yet Cyrus’s fascination did not stem from the same place as the handful of other men watching her in rapture; while they wished to have her, Cyrus wished he couldbeher.





	Tread Lightly On My Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Based off Primrose's Chapter 2 banter with Cyrus and spiraled from there lmao

          Since meeting Primrose only a few short weeks ago, Cyrus had not seen her dance until today, on the stage of Stillsnow Tavern. He knew she was a dancer, of course, and he had to admit he was curious to see if her skill lived up to her reputation. As he watched her, he realised she surpassed it. The way she moved her body effortlessly in time with the sultry music was hypnotising. It was as if she was one with the very air around her. And yet Cyrus’s fascination did not stem from the same place as the handful of other men watching her in rapture; while they wished to have her, Cyrus wished he could _be_ her. Or be like her, rather.

          ‘You dance masterfully,’ he told Primrose once she had returned from her meeting with Arianna.

          ‘Thank you.’ Her tone was polite, but her focus was clearly elsewhere.

          ‘You were positively inspiring,’ he continued. ‘I wish I could dance like that, but alas…’

          Finally, she looked up at him and smiled softly. ‘Hehe. Two left feet, right?’

          He laughed along with her. ‘I’m afraid so. I dared not go to the faculty balls for fear I’d trip over some poor girl and make a fool of us both. I wonder if lessons would help. Or should I simply accept who I am and stick to my tomes?’

          ‘Well, you’re probably a quick learner. And even the clumsiest people can manage the basic steps…’ She trailed off, then gathered herself. ‘The most important thing is to enjoy the dance, and let yourself go.’

          ‘Right, right. Don’t be self-conscious. Of course that makes sense. It would be rather wonderful to do all those complicated steps and not think about it…’ As if Cyrus could ever dream of just letting go of his anxieties. ‘As much as I love scholarship, I love dancing, too.’ he admitted, suddenly bashful.

          Primrose chuckled kindly. ‘Well, if you’re _that_ eager, I could give you some pointers.’

          ‘You’d do that?’ Cyrus’s eyes lit up the way they always tended to when he was allowed a new opportunity for learning. ‘Why, I would be most grateful if you could!’

           

          *

           

          Their lessons began the following week, after Primrose had needed to take some time after taking the life of the first man who had conspired with her father’s murderer.  They all helped out one way or another. H’aanit cooked for her on a few occasions; Ophilia offered her counsel and prayer; Alfyn dressed the minor wounds she had received; Olberic cleaned and sharpened her blades for the next crow. Cyrus had visited her in her room at the inn, offering words of sympathy and as much misguided advice as he could ramble out. She seemed grateful for the company, and he noticed her expression wasn’t as fraught and tightly-strung as it was earlier in the week.

          ‘Tuck your toes in a little more–yes, just like that. Let your momentum carry you around.’ Primrose studied his every move intensely, offering mumbled corrections as she tracked his body with her eyes. ‘Posture,’ she reminded him every minute or so.

          After an hour of continuous practice, Cyrus could feel the sweat forming on his skin begin to trickle down his face, back, and legs. When Primrose told him they were finished for the day, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped to the floor.

          ‘Ha, don’t tell me you’re thinking of giving up already!’ she teased.

          ‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’ Cyrus protested. As an afterthought, he added ‘Though I am _exceedingly_ glad our sessions don’t last longer than an hour.’

          ‘You really are a spring lamb, aren’t you?’ she mused. ‘You wouldn’t have lasted a day at Helgenish’s tavern.’

          Cyrus sensed no cruelty in Primrose’s words, but something just as sharp. Regret… or grief, perhaps? For once, he thought it best not to pry. Her expression moved on quickly, in any case. She began to pack up her sandals and ribbons into the small satchel she had brought with her. As was typical of him, Cyrus felt it was necessary to try and fill the silence.

          ‘Primrose, thank you for being so patient with me; I know I’m not the most capable student. I’d wager trying to teach me to dance is like trying to teach a cait mathematics.’

          He could see a small smile pull at Primrose’s lips, and she replied, ‘Quite the opposite, actually. I wouldn’t expect anyone to become masters of the art in a single session, so don’t worry too much about my nitpicking. I’d go so far as to say you’re a natural, Cyrus.’

          ‘A natural? My, but you flatter me too much!’ Cyrus stammered, heat rising to his cheeks. ‘I’m simply doing my best to learn; it’s your marvellous teaching I have to thank!’

          ‘That’s kind of you to say.’ With that, Primrose slung her bag over her shoulder and headed off, presumably to bathe after all that exercise. Upon catching a whiff of himself, Cyrus supposed he should do the same.

           

          *

           

          They continued with these lessons in relative secret over the next few weeks, taking time in the mornings before the others had woken up or while they were all otherwise preoccupied.

          One morning, around daybreak, they practiced a routine together that Primrose had choreographed. It was a dance that could be learned and completed by a single performer, but the effect was multiplied when another dancer was sharing the space. They mirrored one another, filling gaps where the other left them, moving together as if tethered, a single ethereal unit inhabiting two puppeteered vessels.

          Each time Cyrus fumbled over a step or needed reminding of which move came next, Primrose would start the dance over. They performed it like that again and again, until finally they could complete it with no major mistakes.

          ‘Excellent!’ Primrose grinned. ‘Now, let’s see if you can keep that up for two more all the way through.’

          Cyrus nodded emphatically, and hopped back to his starting position. Once more, they performed the routine with absolute precision. Cyrus completed his final pirouette, slowing himself down with a slight shift in weight, his gaze settling on the tent’s entrance... and the man there watching them.

          ‘Olberic!’ Cyrus tripped and landed on his side. Primrose snorted with laughter before offering a hand to help him up. Back on his feet, he asked, ‘H-how long have you been standing there?’

          ‘Not long,’ Olberic answered sincerely. ‘You dance beautifully, Cyrus. I didn’t realise we had not one but two talented performers in our party.’

          Primrose cleared her throat conspicuously and slinked past him out of the tent. Cyrus could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and raised a hand to try cover them.

          ‘Th-thank you! I can’t tell you how much it means to hear that. In truth, I’ve danced as if I had two left feet until very recently. Primrose is a marvellous teacher. Did you know she never had anyone show her how to dance? She taught herself when she was just a girl…’ He trailed off, having realised he was rambling. He looked up at Olberic, whose gaze was nevertheless fixed intently on him as he spoke. ‘Have you ever danced, Olberic?’

          ‘I have, though I can’t say I’m any good,’ Olberic admitted sheepishly. ‘It’s obvious you’ve learned a lot from Primrose... perhaps you could teach me?’

          Cyrus gaped at him, for once in his life unsure of what to say.

          ‘Only if you’d want to, of course,’ Olberic added.

          ‘But wouldn’t you rather be taught by Primrose? She’s far more experienced than I, and I can attest to her skill as a teacher,’

          ‘Is it not true that the best way to further one’s education of a topic is to try teaching it to someone else?’ Olberic raised an eyebrow at him.

          ‘That _is_ true...’ Cyrus pondered. ‘Well, if you wish to help me in that respect, I’d be delighted to teach you.’

           

          *

           

          The party had been on the road for a few weeks, and had finally arrived in Stonegard on the trail of H’aanit’s lost master. It was a bigger relief than any of them expected to be sleeping in an inn again rather than in cold, damp tents.

          Cyrus and Olberic met for their first lesson in the early morning, when the sun had just risen and enveloped everything in its bright orange rays. Cyrus had cautiously woken Olberic up and showed him to the small clearing outside of town where they would be practicing. It was far enough from camp that they wouldn’t wake up any of the others.

          ‘I must say, it’s a bit strange to me to have moved so quickly from the role of student to teacher again,’ Cyrus admitted, as if he felt he needed a kind of disclaimer.

          ‘You’ve taught history for the university, haven’t you? How much different can it really be?’ Olberic replied.

          ‘I appreciate the sentiment, but the two are _very_ different, actually!’ Cyrus waved his hands in front of him frantically.

          ‘But the teaching itself must be similar, yes?’

          ‘Ah… not really. I think you’ll find that dance lessons take a much more _hands on_ approach than history.’ Cyrus explained, his gaze darting everywhere around him except Olberic’s eyes. Olberic just laughed, loud and impossibly melodic.

          ‘So more like sword fighting then?’

          Cyrus finally looked up at him and noticed that he was smiling. He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and returned the smile.

          ‘Let’s begin, shall we?’

          Cyrus walked Olberic through the basics, stances and simple motions. He hesitated to touch him at first, palms carefully hovering a hair’s breadth away from Olberic’s skin as he guided his form. Olberic danced a lot more gracefully than Cyrus had expected; he seemed so solid, all firm and muscular, and yet he moved like he was weightless. He probably learned that balance and discipline from his knight training; Cyrus felt silly for thinking he wouldn’t have.

          They continued like this for a while, Cyrus guiding Olberic with only a ghost of touch. His fingers delicately brushed under Olberic’s bicep.

          ‘Is everything alright, Cyrus?’

          ‘Y-yes, of course! Why wouldn’t it be?’

          Olberic gave a short, doubtful hum in reply.

          ‘Lift your arm so your elbow is level with your shoulder,’ Cyrus murmured. Olberic raised his arm, slightly too high and on the wrong angle.

          ‘Lower than that.’

          He lowered it past the correct point, and made contact with Cyrus's hand.

          ‘It might be easier if you move me yourself,’ Olberic suggested. Cyrus blushed, and nodded with a small, nervous laugh. He gripped Olberic’s arm, firmly this time, and guided it to the correct angle, tapping gently when he needed him to stop. Olberic was incredibly warm, and Cyrus could feel the blood pumping through his veins under his palm.

          ‘Perfect,’ Cyrus whispered.

           

          *

           

          Their next lesson rolls around, this time quite late at night. While Primrose invited the others to the tavern for a well-deserved drink, Cyrus planned to meet Olberic in the clearing. Cyrus sat on the soft grass for a minute while he waited for his partner to arrive. There was a light breeze trailing through the clearing, inviting goosebumps to rise on his exposed skin. He was wearing an outfit given to him by Primrose. A kind of graduation gift, he supposed. It was made of two pieces, both black with gold accents and embellished with shiny metal disks that reflected light hypnotically when he moved. The top half wrapped from his neck to just below his pecs, leaving his arms and belly uncovered; the bottoms hung softly off of his hips, light fabric flaring out slightly before coming together again at his ankles.

          He saw the light of Olberic’s lantern approaching from the tree line, and waved to him. It was hard to see much with only the sparse light of the moon and their lanterns, but he could have sworn he saw the other man’s cheeks flush pink when he stepped out from between the trees.

          ‘Cyrus, my apologies for making you wait.’

          ‘I’ve only been here for a few minutes,’ Cyrus replied, waving away his concerns with a flick of his wrist. ‘Are you ready?’

          ‘Of course. I… that outfit looks nice on you,’ Olberic said. ‘I mean, erm, it must be comfortable to dance in.’

          Cyrus couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips.

          ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘Primrose gave it to me.’

          ‘She has a good eye,’ Olberic noted.

          ‘She told me I should wear it to our lessons. She said you’d appreciate the, um, professionalism,’ he stammered. ‘Yes, I think that was the word.’ Cyrus couldn’t help but chuckle at himself. Olberic laughed with him, and bent to put down his lantern.

          ‘What’s on the curriculum tonight?’ he asked, after five minutes of stretching to warm up.

          ‘I was thinking we could start with some more advanced steps,’ Cyrus answered. ‘Primrose called this a travelling flamingo twist.’

          They practised together for about an hour, until Cyrus finally called the end of the lesson. They slumped down onto the grass, chests heaving and hearts hammering. The thin layer of sweat on Olberic’s skin glistened in the dim light, shrouding him in an almost heavenly glow. He looked like some kind of beautiful, celestial being. Cyrus couldn’t help but stare.

          ‘Thank you for that,’ Olberic said, at last filling the comfortable silence that had grown between them and snapping Cyrus out of his trance of admiration.

          ‘Of course, my friend,’ Cyrus replied bashfully, ‘I daresay you’ve been helping me far more than the other way around.’

          There was a silence. Cyrus could hear Olberic open his mouth to speak but he hesitated. Until he began, ‘Cyrus, I hope you know how much I appreciate your willingness to teach me...  and our companionship on this journey, as well. It’s not been easy for anyone, but it’s a blessing to know I have people I can rely on when things get… difficult.’

          Cyrus's breath caught in his throat, and all he could manage to convey was a small noise of affirmation.

          Olberic continued, eyes falling away from Cyrus to stare at the grass, ‘That being said, I’ve been meaning to ask you something… I’ve noticed the way you act around me sometimes. You seemed nervous to touch me, you’ve been avoiding eye contact…’

          As he went on, Cyrus felt his heart speed up and pull an embarrassing amount of blood to his cheeks.

          ‘Are you perhaps… interested in me?’ Olberic’s voice softened; he was speaking no louder than a whisper now. He paused. ‘... In the romantic sense?’

          Cyrus’s pulse spiked. While he may have been expecting something like this, he wasn’t in any way prepared. He stuttered, words barely able to escape his throat, ‘Ah, well–erm, that is–ah–y-yes…?’

          Olberic sighs, and he sounds like he’s smiling. ‘That’s a relief to hear. I was worried I might have been making things up in my head,’ he said. ‘I want you to know… I feel the same way.’

          ‘Oh.’ Cyrus tore his eyes away from his own feet and pulled them up to look at Olberic. Their eyes met, and Cyrus wondered if he too looked as ethereal as Olberic did in the low, flickering light of the moon and their dying lanterns.

          ‘Cyrus…’ Olberic began, soft and heavy. ‘I’d like to kiss you. Is that alright?’

          Cyrus nodded, head so foggy he was unable to find the words he needed. The space between them was tangible. He shifted his body closer to the other man. Olberic leaned in to him, and their lips met.

          His hand found its way to Cyrus’s hips, brushing against his warm skin, and Cyrus gasped. He hummed sweetly into the kiss, reaching his own arms up to coil around Olberic’s neck and shoulders and pulling himself to sit comfortably on his lap. Olberic’s other hand trailed up Cyrus’s back, his fingers tracing unseen patterns on his skin that made Cyrus shiver, and ended up in his hair, gently guiding him and pulling him closer. Their single kiss turned into two, three, four–each shorter and more yearning than the last. Then, Olberic’s mouth began to travel, planting dozens of little kisses on Cyrus’s jaw, neck, and collar. Cyrus let out a tiny, involuntary moan, and pressed a kiss of his own the side of Olberic’s head, savouring the scent of his hair. It was intoxicating; everything about the knight was.

          Olberic paused, noticing the steadily growing bulge at Cyrus’s crotch. The thin, loose fabric of his harem pants did absolutely nothing to hide his arousal. Olberic looked up to meet Cyrus’s gaze, the unspoken question hanging heavy between them.

          ‘Another time,’ Cyrus breathed.

          Olberic nodded. ‘Another time,’ he agreed. ‘We should head back to the inn.’

          Cyrus left another quick kiss on Olberic’s lips and then placed a hand on his shoulder as leverage to bring himself back to his feet. He offered Olberic an arm to grab onto and pulled him up so they were both standing. Olberic slid his hand back down Cyrus’s wrist and twined their fingers together. Cyrus smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

          They collected their lanterns and began a leisurely walk back to where their companions were probably also just returning from their evening at the tavern. Cyrus could imagine the look Primrose would undoubtedly have on her face when she saw them, but with the warmth of Olberic’s hand in his and the calming security he felt just walking by his side, he found he couldn’t bring himself to care.

           

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter: [@viciousmaukery](https://twitter.com/viciousmaukery)
> 
> thamks kei for beta reading this i didn't wanna die like a man


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